


Injuries

by AlejandroAsher



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Coco (2017)
Genre: Fighting, Gay, Gay Male Character, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Reluctance to make up with boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlejandroAsher/pseuds/AlejandroAsher
Summary: Hiro gets hurt while superheroing with Big Hero 6 and neglects to tell his boyfriend, Miguel. When he finds out, he’s not happy.
Relationships: Hiro Hamada/Miguel Rivera
Comments: 10
Kudos: 93





	Injuries

**Author's Note:**

> Admittedly, this fic has been sitting in my Google Drive since June, so I thought I'd finally finish it. It's not really edited, but I've read it once before posting, so same thing, right?  
> Here's my attempt at a comeback to one of the first mlm ships I ever shipped. Hope you guys enjoy.

Hiro really quite wished that he had just died in the middle of the fight instead of having to deal with all of this shit.

 _It’s not a big deal,_ he’d insisted, trying to calm down his boyfriend Miguel who had been freaking out at the sight of Hiro’s black eye and broken arm. Miguel more or less forced his way into Hiro’s bedroom and demanded that Hiro allow him to take care of him, but Hiro refused. He said Baymax himself was more than enough help, and Aunt Cass and Tadashi were around, too. Miguel had countered saying Aunt Cass is always busy running the café and there’s always a 50/50 chance that Tadashi fell asleep in his lab working on some upgrade for Baymax. Even so, Hiro refused his help.

Hiro thought it was over and that they could move past this as soon as he healed and saw that Baymax was indeed adequate help when Miguel sighed, said “Fine,” and turned around and began walking down the staircase that led to the kitchen, away from Hiro’s bedroom. However, much to Hiro’s chagrin, something more occurred to Miguel that made him stomp up the stairs once more and proceed to yell at his boyfriend in Spanish, the words flying off his tongue a mile a minute. Hiro didn’t understand Spanish very well yet; he was learning, but a boy can only learn an entirely new language so fast, especially when Spanish was a language that didn't exactly closely resemble neither English nor Japanese. Despite not understanding any words, Hiro could tell Miguel was pissed.

Hiro rubbed his temples as he listened to his boyfriend going off. “Miguel, you know I don’t speak Spanish,” he said, interrupting Miguel in the middle of his Spanish-language verbal torment. 

“How could you not tell me about this?” Miguel exclaimed in English. “You get hurt in a fight and I have to find out one week _after_ it happens? You refuse to answer my calls, you leave me on read, you don’t listen to any of my voicemails, and I find out it’s because you got your ass kicked?”

“I did _not_ ‘get my ass kicked’!” Hiro exclaimed defensively.

“Oh, really? So I guess that black eye and cast is just for show, huh? What, are you preparing for Halloween or something?”

Hiro’s jaw set as he stared at his boyfriend with his eyebrows furrowed, an angry expression on his face. All Hiro wanted at this point was for Miguel to calm the fuck down. You get hurt while being a superhero. It happens. Miguel should’ve at least been grateful that Hiro had even bothered to tell him about Big Hero 6 at all! The only people outside of it that knew were Tadashi and Miguel. It was virtually impossible to keep a secret so big from either of them—Tadashi because he was the older brother that looked after him too much, and Miguel because he was his boyfriend… that also looked after him too much. Great, Hiro had two teenage boys (if you could still call Tadashi a teenager) watching over him with binoculars, both of whom claimed to love him unconditionally. Hiro loved them both too, but he didn’t want to admit that right now. 

“I don’t get what the big deal is, okay? This shit’s bound to happen sooner or later when you’re a superhero. You’re lucky I even _told you_ about Big Hero 6 in the first place.” Hiro kept talking as he stalked off to his bed to sit down on it, not caring about how the shoji screen prevented him from seeing his boyfriend’s face. “Though maybe _lucky_ isn’t the right word. You’re so nosy and picky and you lose your shit so easily. I only told you about Big Hero 6 ‘cause I had no other choice with _you_ as a boyfriend.”

The eerie silence left Hiro regretting his choice of words. He wanted to take them back, but at the same time, he didn’t. It was the honest truth, and Miguel needed to hear it at some point. Hiro was a person that needed his space; not being directly next to Miguel 24/7 wasn’t going to kill him. Miguel’s concern for Hiro had skyrocketed in the past 6 months ever since he told him that he was a superhero, and the way that Miguel was more or less smothering him in constant texts of “are you okay?” was beginning to take its toll on their relationship. Hiro had wanted to say something to Miguel, but he’d never been able to squeeze in a word in between all of Miguel’s words of concern that he was pelted with, all day every day.

“So what, you want me to act like I don’t _care_ about you?” 

Hiro opened his mouth to apologize, to try to soften his message a little bit, but then a little voice in his head told him not to. If he wasn’t going to be blunt with him _now,_ he never would. Being a boyfriend didn't mean babying the person you love, or sugarcoating everything. When Hiro finally did speak, he said, “I’d rather you do that instead of what you’re doing now.”

One could spread the tension in the room on a piece of bread and still have enough leftover to make breakfast the following morning.

Finally, he heard Miguel breathe. “Fine,” he said with a tone so devastatingly curt, followed by the sound of footsteps going down the staircase.

Miguel and Hiro have had no contact in the nine days since.

They didn’t fight very often. Sure, they had little arguments or tiffs here and there, but nothing so serious. They _had_ had a fight once before over something so insignificant and stupid that led them to not speak for days. Hiro honestly didn’t remember what the fight was about, and he wasn’t sure if Miguel did either—that’s how dumb it was. But this wasn’t dumb, this was a serious issue. _This is some shit people break up over._

Clinginess. It had always been something Hiro found unattractive and repelling, a trait in a partner to be avoided. Tadashi had described experiences in the past with girlfriends and boyfriends in which he ended their relationship because he needed a damn break from them. Hiro remembered one particular girl Tadashi had dated about a year ago—blonde, short, a voice even higher than Honey Lemon’s. Tadashi had always plopped into bed at about 1:00 am and groaned so loudly it would wake Hiro up every time; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Tadashi wasn’t very happy with her anymore. In fact, it had been Hiro’s idea for Tadashi to end the relationship with her, so he did.

Miguel could be clingy and feel the need to take care of him all the time, but Hiro still loved him. If he were being honest, he actually liked having someone that cared so much around. It made him feel important, like he mattered. But Hiro could do without supervision for a little while. Hiro wanted a boyfriend, not a babysitter. He didn’t want to _break up._ Just get Miguel to realize what he’s doing wrong.

Hiro pondered the events of the last nine or ten days as he was lying in his bed, arm still in a sling, right eye still black, in the worst mood he had been in for the past month. It was his right arm that had been broken, which meant he couldn’t write or type or even use his phone efficiently. His left arm was good at jack shit. There was very little he could do—at the very least, he was able to put his earbuds into his ears and fumble with his phone for a few hours to choose a song to listen to, or a YouTube video to watch. But it was infuriating as hell to not be able to type! How the hell did people have the will to live before computers? _Oh, right: people lived so they could invent them._

The thought that it might not be so bad if Miguel were here occurred to him. He shooed the thought away.

Hiro let out a discontented sigh as he turned his head to the right to look at his desk. He saw his laptop on the desk and his desktop computer he shared with Tadashi. He pouted, wanting so badly to be able to walk over there and use it. Theoretically, he could—nothing’s wrong with his legs—but using a computer with only your left arm was hell, especially when you were right-handed.

It occurred to Hiro that there was one thing he didn’t need his right hand for—only his voice. Out of boredom—Tadashi was at the lab and Aunt Cass was downstairs running the café—Hiro said “ow” loudly into the open air.

A beeping noise followed by the sound of a large bag of air being inflated. _Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak._ The quiet but unmistakable sound of Baymax’s short and stubby airbag limbs moving relaxed Hiro, in a way. Although Baymax was a robot who spoke in a somewhat monotonous voice, had two cameras for eyes, no nose, and a straight line across his face as a mouth, Hiro felt like he was a human. Plus he was made out of air and a titanium skeleton. Baymax looked like a giant marshmallow.

Hiro was lying down, but he could still tell that Baymax was waving to him. “Hello, Hiro. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

“I know who you are, Baymax,” Hiro grumbled. He made a mental note to remind Tadashi to change his programming so that he didn’t have to repeat that exact same sentence to everyone every time he turned on. It got on his nerves. Hiro would change the programming himself, but he couldn’t fucking type!

“I was alerted to the need for medical attention when you said ‘ow,’” Baymax says. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“I’m bored ‘cause I can’t do shit ‘cause my arm is in a sling.”

Baymax blinked. “That is a cast on your arm.”

“I _know,_ ” Hiro grumbled, exhausted and out of patience. “It’s just an expression.”

“I will scan you now.”

Hiro said nothing as Baymax scanned him.

“Scan complete. While your physical recovery is continuing at a steady pace, you do seem to be experiencing mood swings and intense periods of frustration.”

Baymax stops talking and begins walking—or in his case, more so _waddling_ —between Hiro’s shoji screen and his bed, then leaning over him so that Hiro can see him. “Hello,” Baymax says once he’s stopped moving, looking down upon Hiro.

“Hello,” Hiro says.

“Did something happen between you and a loved one?”

It was times like this that Hiro was more or less amazed at Baymax’s capabilities, which didn’t happen very often, considering he’s known Baymax for more or less a year at this point and Baymax knows him so well. Baymax was supposedly a _healthcare_ companion but there were times that Hiro thought Baymax could read his mind.

“No.”

Baymax blinked. “My sensors indicate you are lying.”

“Okay, fine. Something happened between Miguel and me.”

“Would you like to talk about it? Talking is very important and can help many people get over feelings of frustration or resentment.”

The last time Hiro had spoken his emotions, it made his boyfriend give him the silent treatment. He didn’t find talking to be very stimulating at the moment. But what was the point of lying to this mind-reading robot? “Fine. Miguel and I had a fight ever since I got injured two weeks ago. I didn’t tell him that I got injured and he got mad at me for it, and then I told him that he had been clingy and nosy and I needed my space. We haven’t talked since.”

Baymax tilts his head, blinks, and then stands straight up once again. He then turns around and sits down on Hiro’s bed, almost knocking over Hiro’s shoji screen in the process, but Hiro wouldn’t have even had the energy to stop it from falling if it did. Then Baymax turns his head to the left to face Hiro. “Hello.”

Hiro opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “Hi.” He had better regain use of his right hand sooner rather than later so he can write in an anti-destroying-the-room protocol into Baymax’s chip. 

“Do you feel angry with Miguel?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” A futile inquiry. Hiro was stalling.

“Listening to my patients talk about their feelings makes me a better healthcare companion.”

Hiro let out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, I do.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause he’s super clingy and always asks if I’m okay and doesn’t believe me when I tell him I don’t need his help.”

Baymax blinks again. “I believe that is just a sign of caring and love, not clinginess.” Then Baymax leans closer. “He is your boyfriend. Boyfriends just want their boyfriends to be okay.”

Hiro glared at his personal healthcare companion.

“I think you should consider apologizing to Miguel,” Baymax says without any prompting.

“I’m satisfied with my care,” Hiro responds.

Baymax blinks and stands, this time successfully knocking over the shoji screen. He does nothing to make it stand upright again as he waddles back over to his charging station, deinflates, and shrinks back into his red case.

Little did young Hiro know that Tadashi had been standing on the steps leading to their bedroom for almost the entire time Hiro talked to Baymax.

“Hey, Hiro,” Tadashi says, entering the room with a smug smirk plastered on his face.

Hiro's eyes widened in a sort of panic. “How much of that did you hear?”

Tadashi shrugged nonchalantly. “Heard enough.” Then he grabbed Hiro’s phone off his nightstand and placed it in his left palm. “Call your boyfriend.”

“No.”

“Do it.”

“No!” 

_“Hiro!”_

“What?” Hiro yelled, throwing his phone across the room. The screen would be fine—he had built it himself to ensure that it wouldn’t crack nearly as easily as a thousand-dollar phone from an electronics store would. “You’re not my parent. You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not a baby anymore, Nii-san. I can make my own decisions. I’ll talk to Miguel when I want to. So can you just drop the whole thing?”

Tadashi crossed his arms and stared at his brother for a few moments, biting the inside of his cheek and resisting the urge to break his little brother’s only other good arm for being such an obstinate idiot. 

Then he decided to make his way to the other side of the room, near his bed, where Hiro’s phone had landed. “Well, I’m not sure throwing your phone was the best answer,” Tadashi said, picking up his little brother’s phone to open the Contacts app. When Hiro put two and two together, his eyes went as big as pie plates. 

“Don’t you fucking dare, _Nii-san!”_ Hiro yelled as he tried to get up from his bed. Alas, it was a slow and convoluted process of getting into an upright sitting position before he was able to get out of bed to attempt to grab the phone out of Tadashi’s hands, meaning that by the time Hiro had gotten close enough to his older brother to take his device back, he was already holding it up to his ear, and Hiro could hear the phone ringing one, two, three times as Tadashi waited for Miguel to pick up. Tadashi wasn’t even trying to make the phone harder to reach for Hiro; he was quite short, after all, and even when Hiro jumped he often couldn’t reach his brother’s height. Tadashi also gave his brother a withering stare as the phone rang, as if to warn him: _“Don’t you dare try to grab the phone and hurt yourself in the process. I’ll never forgive you.”_

In some dormant, distant corner of Hiro’s mind, he knew that look came from a genuine place of love. But the thought didn’t register—all that was important now was making sure Miguel didn’t pick up.

Hiro lets out a groan louder than a lawn mower being powered on when he hears his boyfriend’s voice, a faint little noise that he wouldn’t have detected if he hadn’t been listening for it. He can’t hear what Miguel is saying, but he knows it was him. Hiro knows that boy better than anyone.

To Tadashi’s dismay, Miguel picks up the phone angrily ranting in Spanish. _“No empieces con tus chingaderas, chinito. Todavía sigo enojado contigo. Si no quieres disculparse, cuelgue el teléfono y no me llamas hasta que sí estás listo hacerlo.”_

“Miguel, it’s Tadashi. I stole your boyfriend’s phone.”

“Give it to me!” Hiro hisses, reaching to grab Tadashi’s wrist. Tadashi only gently shoves his brother away, silently finding the humor in how easy it was to ignore Hiro’s aggressions.

The young boy on the other end of the line pauses for a moment. “Tadashi, why are _you_ calling?”

“I think Hiro has something to say to you,” he says, glancing at Hiro.

 _“No, I don’t!”_ Hiro insists.

Miguel sighs loud enough for Hiro to hear. “Tadashi, I don't want you forcing Hiro to apologize. Then it's not a real apology. He can call me when he's ready to say sorry.” Miguel ended the call as soon as he finished his sentence, not even waiting for Hiro or Tadashi to say anything.

Tadashi handed the device back to his little brother. “He hung up. You can relax.”

“What'd he say?”

“That he doesn't want me to force you to apologize ‘cuz then it's not a real apology. He'll only listen to you if you call him up ready to apologize.”

Hiro's jaw fell to the floor for a brief moment. “Oh, fuck him!”

“Why do you say that?”

“I have nothing to apologize for!” Hiro exclaimed as he walked back to his bed.

Tadashi followed him, taking it upon himself to stand the shoji screen back up. Once it was standing again, Tadashi sat at the foot of Hiro's bed. “Why is it that you think you have nothing to apologize for?”

“What, you wanna play Baymax now?” Hiro rolled his eyes as he reached for his earbuds. Tadashi grabbed them off the nightstand before he could grab them. “Hey, what the hell, Nii-san? What is with you today?”

“What's with _me_ today?”

“Yeah!”

“Um, _I'm_ not the one brooding around the house all week because I got into a fight with my boyfriend and the both of us are too immature to own up to what we each did wrong. You've been pissy and overreacting to every single little thing the past nine days. It's _over._ ” Tadashi tossed the earbuds onto his own mattress so he wouldn't be waving them around as he talked with his hands, and to eliminate the risk of Hiro snatching them away while he spoke. “I'm not letting you just never make up with him. Do you really wanna break up with him over this?”

If Hiro could have crossed his arms, he would have. He only looked down at his lap quietly with an angry expression.

Tadashi stared at him intently until Hiro broke. “No.”

“Right. Because you love him.”

“What's your point?”

Tadashi scooted just a little closer to Hiro. “What did Miguel do wrong?”

Hiro shifted. “You're just gonna—”

Tadashi held his hands up in the air as if in surrender. “I'm not gonna say anything the whole time you're talking, okay? Tell your side of the story. The floor's yours.”

Hiro sighed. “Fine.”

Then he recounted the events of his and Miguel's fight—how he'd neglected to tell Miguel that he'd been injured, which made Miguel angry, and that he felt that Miguel was too clingy and it was starting to make their romance feel less like a blessing and more like a chore.

Tadashi exhaled when Hiro was done talking. “Well, thank you for telling me all that, Hiro.”

Hiro only grumbled in response.

“I think you know you kind of messed up when you didn't tell your own _boyfriend_ that you had gotten seriously injured —”

“I wasn't _seriously injured—_ ”

“Hiro. Your arm is in a cast. Your eye is the same color as your hair. Boys should really know about it when their boyfriend looks like you.”

Hiro rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, it was a bad idea to not tell Miguel, but I get why you didn't, because you think he's way too clingy. But I think it would be better if you were just honest with him instead of letting your frustrations build up and explode in a fight.”

“But he won't _listen._ ”

Tadashi sighed. “Okay, that's fair. Not listening is bad. But, see it from his perspective. Miguel saw the boy he loves more than anything in the world with a black eye and a cast, and he freaked out. Wouldn't you, if Miguel got injured? You seldom ever share your feelings, Hiro. He just wants to make sure you're okay, to do whatever he can to help _'cause he cares about you_. So much. And because he can't seem to count on you to let him know that you're okay, he'll make sure that you are okay via a different method. A method that you perceive as annoying.”

Hiro stared at his brother as he listened to him dissect the problems in his relationship with Miguel.

“Not talking and not being honest with your significant other is a sure way to doom a relationship, Hiro. Trust me.” Tadashi ruffled his hair as he got up from Hiro's bed. “Think about that.”

* * *

Hiro could still turn away.

He had come to Miguel's house with a bouquet of red roses in his only free hand, though he was starting to feel like an idiot for stopping by the florist to get them in the first place. _Red roses? Really?_ Hiro felt so self-conscious standing outside an apartment door holding a bouquet of flowers. At least three random strangers had already said things to him about the flowers. This one guy in the parking lot of the florist, from his car, asked Hiro, “What’d you do to her?” Hiro only ignored his question. The other two people had just walked past him on the street just now. They seemed to assume that Hiro was buying the flowers to ask someone out, because one of them began whooping and clapping, and another clapped him on the back and exclaimed, “Good luck!”

Hiro hated it when strangers tried to touch him at all.

Suffice it to say that a lingering frown and a bouquet of roses wasn’t the most convincing way to deliver an apology. Hiro felt himself regretting the entire damn month. If he’d just let Miguel cling for a bit and take care of him, or if he’d told Miguel about his injury in the first place, none of this would’ve happened.

The idea of turning around and pretending he’d never come to Miguel’s door, and that he’d never bought the flowers was unbelievably tempting, but Tadashi already knew that Hiro went to apologize. If he came back home with an unresolved argument, Hiro would never hear the end of it.

Therefore, Hiro knocked.

A moment passed before Luisa, Miguel’s mom, appeared at the door. “Oh, Hiro.” His name came out of her mouth with an odd amalgamation of content and disappointment, and Hiro couldn’t exactly blame her.

“Hi, Señora Rivera,” Hiro said, the word _señora_ coming out a little awkwardly. He found himself wondering whether or not it would’ve been better just to say _Mrs._ instead. Miguel’s parents always made Hiro so nervous—though Miguel’s dad was significantly scarier than his mom. “Uh, is Miguel here? I need to talk to him.”

Luisa gestured for Hiro to enter. Hiro stepped into the Riveras’ small San Fransokyo apartment, standing in the living room. Hiro could smell the aroma of _carne molida_ being cooked from the kitchen. It felt good, to finally be over at Miguel’s place again. Not moving from his room for so long had begun to feel suffocating, and Hiro hadn’t even realized it.

She closed the door behind Hiro. _“¡Miguel!”_ Luisa called up the stairs. _“Tu novio está aquí.”_

Miguel, who was in his room, strumming chords to a song he was struggling to write, almost didn’t hear his mom. And when he did, he thought he’d misheard her. “Huh?” he called back as he got up from his bed and made his way to the door. When he opened it and saw Hiro downstairs holding a bouquet of red roses, though, Miguel realized he wasn’t mistaken. “Oh.”

“Hi,” Hiro said.

Miguel came down the stairs to face his boyfriend.

“I, uh, came here to talk to you. And these are for you.” Hiro held out the flowers to him. With the skeptical raised eyebrow on Miguel's face, and the way Luisa was so clearly still watching the two boys while trying to make it look like she's gone back to cooking, Hiro wanted to hide under something.

“Thanks,” Miguel said, taking the bouquet.

“I can put that in a vase,” Luisa said, entering the living room again and taking the flowers from her son. “Thank you, Hiro. They're very pretty.” Her tone still told Hiro that she wasn't totally cool with him yet.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Rivera.”

Then Miguel looked at Hiro. “We can go talk in my room.”

Hiro nodded, and the two boys went up the stairs. “No cierres la puerta,” Luisa says to her son.

“I won't, Mom,” Miguel said, clearly exhausted at how she thinks Miguel could even _think_ to do something scandalous with Hiro when both his siblings, parents, and _abuelos_ were home. When the two boys had made it into Miguel's room, Miguel left the door ajar.

Miguel and Hiro sat on Miguel's bed. Miguel rested his elbow on his bed frame.

They sat in silence for a moment or two.

“Well?” Miguel finally said.

Hiro exhaled, trying and failing to avoid making it sound like a sigh. “So you remember when my brother called you from my phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Tadashi and I talked about our fight, and he made me think about some stuff, so here goes.” Hiro inhaled and exhaled, preparing to admit defeat. “So, the reason why I didn't tell you I got hurt was because I didn't want you to flip and lose your shit. Because I knew you would. You're always checking in on me, spamming my phone whenever Big Hero 6 is on the news, and eventually it can get kind of annoying. But Tadashi told me that you do that because I never tell you anything.”

Miguel sighs, only nodding. He hadn’t gotten very much sleep the past few days. The night hours that were supposed to be spent in a peaceful slumber were instead wasted by tossing and turning, by turning up the volume louder and louder on his earbuds to try to drown out the anxious thoughts that flooded his mind, the pessimistic predictions of the future of his relationship with Hiro. He didn’t have the energy to interject while Hiro was talking.

Hiro inhaled and exhaled. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry about what I said to you before, and I’m sorry that I never tell you about when I get hurt. I just know you’ll freak out and I don’t like to see you like that.”

Miguel had begun to look at his boyfriend with furrowed eyebrows. “Wait a minute. This has happened before?”

Hiro blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you gotten injured with Big Hero 6 before and not told me?”

The question caught him off guard. The superhero suddenly felt like a deer in headlights. And he knew he only had a matter of time to answer this question, as his inquiring boyfriend’s expression was growing more and more accusatory by the second.

“Well—I mean, no—”

 _“Hiro.”_ Miguel seldom used Hiro’s actual first name to refer to him now that they were dating. He opted for cuter, (almost exclusively Spanish) terms of endearment, like _amor,_ _mi corazón_ , and _mi vida._ But now that they were fighting, Miguel hadn’t referred to Hiro with a pet name since they stopped talking to each other, meaning that Hiro really shouldn’t be so alarmed when his boyfriend uses his first name once again. But it’s Miguel’s tone and the way his eyebrows somehow narrow even _more_ and the way Miguel inches slightly closer to him that makes Hiro trip up on his words, even though he is telling the truth.

“Okay, look, I’ve gotten a few scrapes and cuts before, but nothing this bad,” Hiro finally said rapidly, gesturing to the cast on his arm.

Miguel sighed loud and long, hiding his face in his hands long enough for Hiro to wonder if he was silently crying. And he was, but Hiro didn’t know that until Miguel pulled his boyfriend into a sudden and warm embrace.

Miguel wrapped his arms around Hiro’s torso, pulling Hiro close and resting his chin on Hiro’s shoulder. Miguel sniffed. “Do you know how much I worry?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Hiro said, despite the fact he knew Miguel was crying.

“ _Cállate,_ you ass.” Miguel let a few more tears fall down his face. He had a dickwad for a boyfriend. A very cute, very stubborn dickwad that he wouldn’t trade for the world. “I read the news stories and I watch the footage people record of you and Big Hero 6 fighting for San Fransokyo and I… shit, Hiro, _you_ try being in my place! What if I were out doing crazy-dangerous shit every other day?” Miguel had to stop himself from going on because none of this was anything Hiro hadn’t heard before. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I want to know how my boyfriend is doing.” 

Miguel lets go of Hiro so he can look into his brown eyes. Miguel rests his hand on Hiro’s good shoulder. “Can you at least just promise me that you’ll _try_ to be a little more open?”

“As long as you’ll try to be a little less panicked,” Hiro said.

“Maybe if you’re more _open,_ then I’d be less panicked,” Miguel countered, effectively checkmating him.

Now Hiro smiled. “Yeah. I guess I can do that.”

Miguel smiled at him with tears still in his eyes. “Thanks, _mi amor._ ” Then Miguel pressed his lips to Hiro’s.

Hiro scooted closer to his boyfriend to wrap his one good arm around him, relieved that the tension has dissipated, happy that he finally gets to relish being in the arms of the boy he loves more than anything in the world once again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out my fic <3  
> Let me know if you wanna see Higuel more often. There's this one idea I've had for _so long_ that I never got quite around to writing. I think it might be fun.


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